


What We Do

by LittleWhiteTie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission gone awry, Shiro and Keith are captured and imprisoned. Shiro is injured and sick. Keith has no idea how to take care of someone, let alone comfort them, but he does his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Do

Keith would never say that he liked watching Shiro fight. It would be perverse, considering how much Shiro had suffered because others had enjoyed watching him fight. But the way he manoeuvred in battle, the fluid movements and razor-sharp reflexes, the way he was always a step or three ahead of his opponent, was mesmerizing. Normally, Keith hated not being at the forefront of the action, but when it was Shiro taking point, he didn’t mind so much.

Their mission was simple enough. There were two planets orbiting the same star that were both thought to be providing supplies to the Galran Empire, so the paladins had split up: Pidge, Hunk, and Lance took one, while Keith and Shiro took the other. Each team would take a pod (less conspicuous than the Lions) and land out of sight, infiltrate the base of operations, download the data from the mainframe via Pidge’s program, and then get out. Piece of space cake. At least, in theory.

Keith, guarding the rear, watched in awe as Shiro took down sentry after sentry and the occasional X’rannian guard. His motions seemed effortless, almost choreographed. That is, up until the moment Shiro froze.

Shiro froze, but the guard before him, her sword at the ready, did not. She seized her opportunity. “Shiro!” Keith rushed forward as soon as he realized that he wasn’t moving and lunged at her, diverting her aim away from any vital organs, but her sword, sharp enough to cut through his armour, left a deep gash in Shiro’s left leg.

With a few aggressive swings, Keith managed to disarm and take out the guard, but the commotion attracted the attention of the other guards and sentries. More and more came pouring in until they were surrounded. Keith still fought, slashing at anyone and anything that got in the way of his sword, but he heard Shiro cry out as another strike hit him and heard him fall to the ground. When he didn’t hear him get back up, he realized they couldn’t keep fighting. He hated to say them, but he forced the words out: “Stop. We surrender.” He dropped his bayard and raised his hands.

The guards roughly grabbed his arms and cuffed him; only then, when their weapons were away, did he take his eyes off of them to look over at Shiro. Keith’s eyes widened as he saw Shiro on the ground, blood pooling around him from both the wound in his leg and a second slash that ran its way across his chest. He was pale and shaking, his eyes wide and unfocused. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, and Keith realized he probably had.

Keith’s gaze was torn away as a guard shoved him forward, sword pointed at his back. Tension mounted in him with each step as he was marched through a series of dark, winding corridors. Shiro was being dragged by two guards behind him; he could hear above their footsteps the grating sound of armour scraping across the stone floor.

When they finally reached the prison, his cuffs were removed and he was pushed inside a cell. Shiro was bodily thrown to the ground beside him. “Shiro!” he gasped, scrambling to his side. “Hey! Wait!” he yelled as the guards began to leave. “He needs medical attention!”

“Not our problem,” one of them shrugged. “You should be grateful we even take prisoners here,” he said, and the guards walked away. Keith shook with rage, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He quickly turned his attention back to Shiro.

“Hey,” Keith said, voice soft yet urgent, giving him a gentle shake. “Hey, are you alright?”

Shiro blinked a couple times, his slate grey eyes finally sliding back into focus. “…Keith,” he said at last, quietly, between shallow breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

“Never mind that. Can you sit up? You’re bleeding pretty badly. We should at least try to bandage your wounds.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he said absently, struggling but managing to pull himself up to a seated position, leaning back against the cell wall. Shiro's teeth were clenched tightly as Keith pried off his armour and then cut away his shirt and pant leg with the dagger he kept hidden on him, peeling the fabric from the wounds.

Keith faltered for a moment when he caught sight of the litany of scars that carved up Shiro's skin. Some of them were so deep, so wide, he wasn't sure how Shiro had even survived. But he couldn't think about that right now. He busied himself with shredding Shiro's ruined shirt into strips, willing his hands to stay steady. 

“I haven’t really done this before. Is this alright?” Keith asked as he wrapped the makeshift bandages around Shiro's wounds.

Shiro did his best not to wince. “Perfectly. Thank you.”

“Okay. Good.” A silence fell between them.

After he had finished bandaging him up, Keith tried again. “…Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” Shiro responded automatically.

Keith looked at him warily. “Okay,” he said dumbly, not knowing how else to respond. There was a silence as he mulled over the question in his mind. He knew he probably shouldn’t ask, but his impulse control was lacking, and before he knew it, he had blurted it out. “What happened?”

He regretted asking as soon as the words left his lips, seeing how pale and drawn Shiro looked. He looked exhausted, leaning heavily against the wall; now was probably not the time to ask. “You, uh, don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he added hastily.

Shiro sighed and let his eyes close but shook his head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I at least owe you that much. It was just…” He breathed. “That guard. She looked just like someone from… from the arena.”

Keith thought back to the guard Shiro had frozen in front of. She had looked different from the other guards, probably a different species. Her skin was greenish-grey and her sclera dark, but her features were humanoid. She had looked pretty young.

“She… she was so scared,” Shiro continued, shakily. “She was so scared, and I killed her. I-I didn’t mean to. She came at me, and the cut was shallow, but I... I must have hit a vital. There was so much blood.” He was trembling as he stared down at his hands. “It wasn’t even a quick death. I can still hear her screaming,” he whispered.

Keith bit his lip, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t fair what had happened, how much Shiro had suffered and the guilt he was burdened with and how he had to relive these moments time and again. It wasn’t fair that he was hurt and stuck here with Keith, awkward Keith, who had no idea how to comfort someone. Keith placed a tentative hand on Shiro’s broad shoulder. “I… I’m sorry,” he offered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

It wasn’t much, but Shiro seemed to relax a bit at his touch. Keith let his hand linger. Slowly, Shiro’s breaths began to even out. “I’m sorry for landing us in this mess,” he finally said quietly. “Thanks for saving me.”

“What? No, first of all, it’s not your fault so don’t blame yourself, and second, that’s what…“ Teammates? Friends? “What we do for each other.”

Shiro gave a soft smile before slumping forward. Keith’s grip tightened. “Shiro?”

“I’m just… a bit dizzy,” he said before his eyes closed and he passed out.

* * *

 

Keith hated this. He had a short attention span to begin with, and now there was nothing to do but listen to Shiro’s shallow breathing and watch his blood stain the floor, ruminating on how bad the situation was. The comm units hadn’t been working due to some sort of interference from the base, so he couldn’t contact the others. Their cell was contained by a force field, and even if they could break through it, Keith doubted Shiro would be able to walk, let alone defend against all the guards and sentries. And even if they somehow managed to get out of the facility, their pod wasn’t even close by. He held his head in his hands.

Hours passed. Finally, some food and a bottle of water were slid through a chute. “Hey, Shiro?” Keith said softly, touching his arm. Shiro’s eyes fluttered open. “Here, you should drink some water.” He opened the bottle and passed it to him.

“Thanks,” Shiro murmured, taking the bottle and pressing it to his lips.

Keith lifted the cover of the meal tray, revealing something dry and bland looking. He tasted it; it was even drier and blander than he imagined. “Well, at least it’s not Coran’s cooking,” he uttered, eliciting a small laugh from Shiro. It was a nice sound. He placed the tray in front of Shiro. “Eat up.”

Shiro picked at his food, not hungry but knowing he should eat, especially with Keith watching him like a mother hen. He said as much, and he laughed softly as Keith flushed scarlet, quickly looking away. “I am  _not_ ,” Keith huffed indignantly. “It’s just- you don’t look so good.”

“I’ve been through worse,” he said, though that wasn’t exactly reassuring. He forced down one last bite then pushed the tray aside. “I’ll be fine, Keith. Really. I’m just a little tired.”

Shiro planted his hands on the ground beside him and tried to push himself to his feet, but his leg gave out, buckling under him. 

“Whoa, hang on, what are you doing?” Keith asked.

Shiro sighed. “I need to-“

“ _Oh_ ,” Keith said, following his line of sight to the toilet in the corner. “Oh. Um, here. I’ll, uh, help.” He draped one of Shiro’s arms over his shoulders and helped him to stand, steadying him as he swayed. Slowly he helped him to limp over to the corner. “Do you need me to…”

“No. No, I’ve got it.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll just, um, be over here,” Keith said, feeling his ears turn red.  _Quiznak_ , he was awkward. He pointedly looked away as he waited.

After he was done, Keith helped him back to the other side of the cell. Shiro gave him a wry smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Don’t mention it,” Keith said, ears still tinged red. He eased him back to the ground. “We should clean your wounds. Change the bandages too,” he noted as he tried to remember his Garrison training. He worked silently, trying his best to be gentle as he poured the remaining water over the deep cuts in Shiro’s chest and leg to wash them, and then wrapped them again. He could tell Shiro was trying hard not to grimace.

By the time he was finished, Shiro looked ready to pass out again. “Done. Want to lie down?”

“Yeah,” Shiro admitted, exhausted.

“Alright. Here.” Keith shrugged off his jacket and bundled it up into a makeshift pillow. There were no beds, and the ground was hard and cold, but this would at least make it a tad more comfortable.

“Thanks,” Shiro whispered as Keith helped him to lie down on his back.

Keith settled down beside him and stared at the ceiling. After a while, he let his eyes close, and the rhythmic sound of Shiro’s breathing eventually lulled him to sleep.

* * *

 

When Keith woke, he looked over and realized Shiro was shivering. He immediately scrambled over. There was a faint flush across Shiro’s face, and he was sweating. Keith could tell without touching him that he had a fever, but he put a hand to his forehead anyway to confirm. He must have gotten an infection. “Damn space microbes work quickly,” he muttered.

Shiro’s lips twitched. He opened his eyes. “Hey,” Keith said, hovering over him.

“Hey,” he returned. His voice was quiet.

“How are you feeling?” It was a dumb question, but Keith didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured him.

“You keep saying that,” Keith said, slightly exasperated.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather I didn’t?”

“Yes. No. I mean…” He sighed. “Just- you can be honest.”

“I am. At least I hope,” Shiro added lightly.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean.”

“…Alright,” he sighed. “Cold. I feel cold," he answered honestly. He was still shivering.

"Yeah. Sorry ‘bout your shirt,” Keith said, glancing at the strips of the ruined shirt he’d torn up with his knife. Which reminded him... "We should probably change your bandages again. And you should drink more water. And maybe eat something,” he added, noting more food and water had come through the chute. “…And no more  _mother hen_  comments,” he added, seeing Shiro’s lips quirk upward.

“Yes sir,” he said, his tone playful. “But really,” he added, his voice earnest as Keith helped prop him up into a sitting position, “I’m lucky you’re here with me, Keith.”

Keith shook his head. “I’m not good at this stuff. It would’ve been better if one of the others-“

“I’m glad you’re here,” Shiro said firmly, and Keith couldn’t help but smile. He felt like a puppy dog, eager for affection. He tried not to beam.

After drinking some water, taking a few bites of food, and changing his dressings, Shiro was starting to nod off again. “Sorry I’m a pretty boring cellmate,” he said. “I’m just… really tired.”

“You lost a lot of blood and you’ve got a fever. Of course you’re tired. I’m not good at small talk anyway,” Keith shrugged, “so rest up.”

And so, despite his shivering, Shiro settled into an uneasy sleep as Keith watched over him.

* * *

 

Shiro’s condition only got worse as time passed. His sleep was fitful, plagued by nightmares. Keith didn’t know what to do. He looked like he was in pain, and he occasionally made noises that indicated as such, but Keith wasn’t sure whether or not he should wake him up. Maybe waking him up in the middle of a nightmare would just disorient him. Maybe he wouldn’t remember it if he just let him sleep, and he certainly needed the rest (not that this looked even remotely restful).

So Keith waited, watching, trying hard not to focus on how much Shiro looked like he was suffering. He tried not to notice the pallor of his complexion (save for the fevered flush across his cheeks), the sheen of sweat on his brow, the blood seeping through his bandages. He tried not to listen too hard to his shallow breathing, his gasps and moans.

Another meal and more water came, and Keith let him sleep through it.

When he started tossing and turning more violently, though, Keith decided it was time to wake him. He couldn’t afford to worsen his injuries. He gently but firmly gripped his shoulders, pinning him down. “Shiro,” he said softly. “Shiro. Wake up.”

Shiro continued to struggle, and it took a considerable amount of strength for Keith to keep his grip on him. He was strong. “Shiro!”

Shiro gasped as his eyes flew open, pupils dilated and panting hard.

“Hey,” Keith said, gently as he could, releasing him. “You were having a nightmare.” He tried to think of something reassuring to say. “You’re alright now.” They were meaningless words, but that’s the sort of thing people said when comforting others, right? He couldn’t quite recall.

“Here,” he said, sliding his arm beneath his shoulders and helping him to sit up. He undid the lid of the bottle of water and offered it to him. After Shiro had taken a couple sips, they sat in silence. Keith kept his arm at Shiro’s back; Shiro didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed. They stayed like that for a while.

Another meal came, and although Shiro really didn’t feel like eating, he choked down a couple bites and drank a bit more water for Keith. Keith changed his dressings again, tearing strips from his red jacket. Shiro kept his head down, light-headed and dizzy. “Can I lie down again?” he asked quietly when he was done, his voice almost meek.

“O-of course,” Keith stuttered, caught off guard by the question and tone of his voice. He really wasn’t well. “Yeah.” Keith shifted his arms to gently help him lie down. He folded up the remains of his jacket and placed them back under his neck and head. Shiro was out almost instantly. He brushed Shiro's white bangs from his face. “Sleep well,” he said softly.

* * *

 

But, of course, Shiro didn’t sleep well. His nightmares seemed to be worse than before. Keith tried to let him sleep and didn’t wake him even as his voice grew tortured and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, clinging to his long lashes. He had to wake him, though, when his tossing and turning progressed to violent thrashing.

He held him down firmly, but Shiro continued to struggle even when his eyes had opened. He was hyperventilating. Keith could feel the heat radiating from his skin; his fever had grown worse. “Hey, calm down. Calm down, Shiro, it’s just me. Keith.”

Slowly, Shiro stopped struggling. “Keith?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” he said softly. Any inhibitions he had were thrown out the window when he saw tears spilling down Shiro’s face, eyes glassy. He gently stroked his face and ran his hand through his hair. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay,” he murmured.

Eventually, though ragged, Shiro’s breathing slowed. “That’s it,” Keith said gently. “Deep breaths.”

Shiro blinked a few times. “Matt… Where’s Matt? Where’s Commander Holt?”

Keith swallowed, unsure of what to say. “They’re… they’re okay. They’re fine.”

Shiro shook his head and started struggling again. Keith moved to restrain him again. “The… the labour camp. I need to go back for them,” he said urgently.

“Shiro, they’re… It’s okay, Shiro. They’re fine. Everyone’s fine,” he said, the lie tasting bitter in his mouth.

“They’re... okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking away. “They’re okay.”

Keith released his hold as Shiro relaxed. Slowly, his breaths started to even out again. Keith felt his own eyelids grow heavy. He wasn’t sure which of them fell asleep first.

* * *

 

Keith woke to the sound of Shiro screaming. He was thrashing again. Keith quickly went over to try to wake him up, then realized to his dismay that Shiro wasn’t sleeping. He was hallucinating, worse than before.

“Shiro! Shiro, whatever you’re experiencing, it isn’t real,” he said, pinning his arms down, feeling how hot his fever ran as he touched his bare skin. Shiro seemed like he was in agony, reliving some sort of torture. He whimpered and pleaded between screams and it made Keith’s chest ache.

“Shiro, you’re sick. You’re hallucinating. This isn’t real,” he said again, but logic didn’t seem to be working. Shiro couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He was shaking violently. “Hey. Look at me.”

“K-Keith?” He looked up at him, his eyes glassy and wide with terror. “Keith, you need to get out of here,” he gasped. “The druids, you- you can’t let them take you! They’ll-“

“Shiro,” he interrupted, trying again, softer this time. He gently let go of his arms, then took Shiro’s human hand between his. He squeezed tight. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shiro gave a choked sob, tears spilling from his eyes. “Just breathe,” Keith coaxed. “That’s it. Deep breaths. In, out.”

“The others… where-“

“They’re coming. They’re coming for us,” Keith said, and he knew that they would. It was just a question of time. “They’ll be here soon. Just stay with me.” He drew him in closer and held on tight.

* * *

 

The next couple days passed in slow motion. Shiro barely woke; he had lost too much blood and his fever wasn’t breaking. When he was awake, he struggled to eat or drink, needing Keith’s help to even do that.

Keith changed Shiro’s bandages every so often while Shiro was sleeping, tearing strips from his jacket and eventually the bottom of his t-shirt. The wounds were nasty, swollen and red. Keith ate and drank and slept when he needed to, but mostly he sat by Shiro’s side, staring listlessly ahead. Sometimes he held his hand; sometimes he absently ran his fingers through his hair. Even if Shiro wasn’t conscious, it made Keith feel better.

By the fourth day (or what seemed like it, judging by the frequency of the meals), Shiro wasn’t waking at all. Keith kept his hands wrapped around Shiro’s human hand and wrist, desperately clinging to his pulse, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Keith didn’t sleep at all that night.

* * *

 

On the fifth day, Keith saw the guard who had haunted Shiro approach. He wondered if he, too, had started to hallucinate, especially when her appearance seemed to shift. His heart began to beat faster, first in fear, then in sheer relief when he realized whom it was.

“Allura,” he breathed out.

“Keith? ...Shiro!” she gasped, her eyes widening as her eyes were drawn to Shiro and all the blood on the floor that had spilled from his body.

“Allura, we need to get Shiro to a healing pod. Now,” Keith said urgently, getting to his feet.

She nodded, quickly disabling the barrier to the cell. Keith made to drape Shiro’s arm across his shoulders, ready to help carry him, but Allura stopped him. “I can carry him myself. I’ll need you for backup,” she said, tossing him his bayard. Keith was reluctant to let go, but he was glad to have the bayard back in his hands. At least with this, he knew how to be useful.

 _“Allura,”_  Keith could make out Pidge’s voice from over the comm link.  _“Comm units are back online.”_

“Great job, Pidge. Coran, can you hear me? Please bring the ship closer and ready a healing pod. Paladins, I need your support. Lance, bring the pod as close to the entrance as you can. Hunk, cover Lance. Pidge, make a scene. We’ll need a diversion.”

_“Roger that.”_

There were a few sentries that tried to stop them, and Keith revelled in taking them down, letting out pent up stress and frustration. Allura had taken out the vast majority of the guards and sentries on her way in, though, and Keith conceded it was just as well; as much as Keith was itching for a real fight after nearly a week of confinement, he was exhausted and they needed to move quickly.

The rest of the team did exactly as Allura had commanded, and soon, they were aboard the ship, rushing Shiro to a healing pod.

It was only after Shiro was safely in the pod, and after Allura’s absolute reassurance that he would be fine, that Keith felt like he could breathe again.

It was only after Lance made a remark about Keith’s new crop top, and after Keith realized he didn’t have the energy to take a swing at him, that he left the med bay to get some rest.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Keith said softly, supporting Shiro as he stumbled out of the cryopod. His eyes were open; he was awake. Keith’s heart lurched with relief.

“Hey,” Shiro said, giving him a smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you.” Shiro would have to fight off the last of the infection on his own – the cryopods wouldn’t kill whatever microbe had taken up residence in Shiro's body – but his cells were healed and he was no longer bleeding to death. He’d be fine. 

Shiro went to ruffle his hair, but Keith pulled him into a hug, squeezing tightly. Shiro seemed a bit surprised at the open display of affection, but he quickly returned the hug.

“I was really worried,” Keith admitted, not letting go.

“I told you I’d be fine, didn’t I?” he smiled. His skin was cold, but his voice was warm. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Keith.”

Keith smiled into his shoulder and squeezed just a little bit tighter. “It’s what we do.”

 


End file.
